Man and Wife

four walls of the bedroom was unendurable. If some lurking snare lay hid under the fair-sounding proposal which Geoffrey had made, it was less repellent to her boldly to prove what it might be than to wait pondering over it with her mind in the dark. She put on her hat and went down into the garden. Nothing happened out of the common. Wherever he was he never showed himself. She wandered up and down, keeping on the side of the garden which was farthest from the dining-room window. To a woman, escape from the place was simply impossible. Setting out of the question the height of the walls, they were armed at the top with a thick setting of jagged broken glass. A small back-door in the end wall (intended probably for the gardener's use) was bolted and locked—the key having been taken out. There was not a house near. The lands of the local growers of vegetables surrounded the garden on all sides. In the nineteenth century, and in the immediate neighborhood of a great metropolis, Anne was as absolutely isolated from all contact with the humanity around her as if she lay in her grave.

After the lapse of half an hour the silence was broken by a noise of carriage wheels on the public road in front, and a ring at the bell. Anne kept close to the cottage, at the back; determined, if a chance offered, on speaking to the visitor, whoever the visitor might be.

She heard voices in the dining-room through the open window—Geoffrey's voice and the voice of a woman. Who was the woman? Not Mrs. Glenarm, surely? After a while the visitor's voice was suddenly raised. 'Where is she?' it said. 'I wish to see her.' Anne instantly advanced to the back-door of the house—and found herself face to face with a lady who was a total stranger to her.

'Are you my son's wife?' asked the lady.

'I am your son's prisoner,' Anne answered.

Lady Holchester's pale face turned paler still. It was plain that Anne's reply had confirmed some doubt in the mother s mind which had been already suggested to it by the son.

'What do you mean?' she asked, in a whisper.

Geoffrey's heavy footsteps crossed the dining-room. There was no time to explain. Anne whispered back,

'Tell my friends what I have told you.'

Geoffrey appeared at the dining-room door.

'Name one of your friends,' said Lady Holchester.

'Sir Patrick Lundie.'

Geoffrey heard the answer. 'What about Sir Patrick Lundie?' he asked.

'I wish to see Sir Patrick Lundie,' said his mother. 'And your wife can tell me where to find him.'

Anne instantly understood that Lady Holchester would communicate with Sir Patrick. She mentioned his London address. Lady Holchester turned to leave the cottage. Her son stopped her.

'Let's set things straight,' he said, 'before you go. My mother,' he went on, addressing himself to Anne, 'don't think there's much chance for us two of living comfortably together. Bear witness to the truth—will you? What did I tell you at breakfast-time? Didn't I say it should be my endeavor to make you a good husband? Didn't I say—in Mrs. Dethridge's presence—I wanted to make it up?' He waited until Anne had answered in the affirmative, and then appealed to his mother. 'Well? what do you think now?'

Lady Holchester declined to reveal what she thought. 'You shall see me, or hear from me, this evening,' she said to Anne. Geoffrey attempted to repeat his unanswered question. His mother looked at him. His eyes instantly dropped before hers. She gravely bent her head to Anne, and drew her veil. Her son followed her out in silence to the gate.

Anne returned to her room, sustained by the first sense of relief which she had felt since the morning. 'His mother is alarmed,' she said to herself. 'A change will come.'

A change was to come—with the coming night.

CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIRST.

THE PROPOSAL.

TOWARD sunset, Lady Holchester's carriage drew up before the gate of the cottage.

Three persons occupied the carriage: Lady Holchester, her eldest son (now Lord Holchester), and Sir Patrick Lundie.

'Will you wait in the carriage, Sir Patrick?' said Julius. 'Or will you come in?'

'I will wait. If I can be of the least use to her,, send for me instantly. In the mean time don't forget to make the stipulation which I have suggested. It is the one certain way of putting your brother's real feeling in this matter to the test.'

The servant had rung the bell without producing any result. He rang again. Lady Holchester put a question to Sir Patrick.

'If I have an opportunity of speaking to my son's wife alone,' she said, 'have you any message to give?'

Sir Patrick produced a little note.

'May I appeal to your ladyship's kindness to give her this?' The gate was opened by the servant-girl, as Lady Holchester took the note. 'Remember,' reiterated Sir Patrick, earnestly 'if I can be of the smallest service to her— don't think of my position with Mr. Delamayn. Send for me at once.'

Julius and his mother were conducted into the drawing-room. The girl informed them that her master had gone up stairs to lie down, and that he would be with them immediately.

Both mother and son were too anxious to speak. Julius wandered uneasily about the room. Some books attracted his notice on a table in the corner—four dirty, greasy volumes, with a slip of paper projecting from the leaves of one of them, and containing this inscription, 'With Mr. Perry's respects.' Julius opened the volume. It was the ghastly popular record of Criminal Trials in England, called the Newgate Calendar. Julius showed it to his mother.